Of Lingerie and Longing
by leogal063
Summary: In the complicated relationship that is Jo and Zane, it's what lies underneath that counts. A look at season 4 timeline Jo/Zane, pre-timeline shift.


_Disclaimer: If I owned Eureka, do you really think it would be coming back in July?_

_AN: So two things made me think of this story. First, the obvious change in Jo and Zane's relationship due to the time shift. I don't believe that two people could go from being in love in one timeline to being enemies in another without some underlying tension. Jo and Zane aren't Grace and Henry; they knew each other, interacted with each other all the time. Second, I've read in many stories of old!Jo still keeping the lingerie in the alternate time line, which made me wonder why a person who was not in any way in a romantic relationship with a guy she locks up repeatedly keep lingerie from said guy. I hope this story answers both. Or at least is a nice read._

_Thanks to Sydnew for giving me the kick I needed to actually post this, allowing me to steal Zane's parents and for informing me about universities in Seattle. If I could, I would get you that motorcycle._

* * *

><p>When Jo had first received Zane's 'presents', to say that she had not been amused would have been an understatement. Furious would be more like it. Two seconds away from shooting him in the knee caps (hey, she was being kind. After all, he was a physicist not an athlete). But he managed to sweet talk (bastard) his way into getting her to tell him about the cuffs and took off. Unfortunately, the town still needed saving, so Carter had to go find him and do his 'Carter thing' to make him come back and help. At the end of the day everyone's smart again, Zane can stay and the town is saved blah, blah, blah.<p>

Whatever, she still had a mountain of lingerie to deal with.

Unfortunately, the bastards at Liz's Lingerie stuck to their return policy as firmly as S.A.R.A.H. stuck to her family dinner policy. So even though Allison had managed to convince the GD accounting department to take a little off the felon's pay check every month to pay Carter back (who knew Allison-the-picture-of-calm-and-collectiveness-Blake could have such a devious side?), at the end of the day she was still left with boxes of unwanted lingerie from a guy she felt still needed a good tasing (or at least a strong smack across the back of the head). Fantastic.

It's the day after Zane asks her out (for the first of many times) that she actually gets around to dealing with the lingerie. Considering the fact that she couldn't send it back, she figures that she should at least take a look at them. Plus, who is she to turn down free lingerie? She doesn't expect much from them so she's pleasantly surprised when she tries them on. Sure, there are the obvious frilly, lacy, barely-worth-their-price-in-cloth sets, but there are also some surprisingly sturdy and supportive ones. In the end, she only gets rid of seven of the sets for being either the wrong size or just completely impractical (her breasts do not need to do double duty as shelves, and seriously, who needs that much padding?).

As she puts the remaining sets away she can't help but think of Zane, his energetic hand gestures and cheeky grin and she feels a little bad at turning him down (but there's her career to think about and Zane's messy past and Mansfield's insistence to "keep an eye on him"). But 'not right now' is not a 'never', so maybe, she tells herself, maybe when things calm down they can talk about it. (By the time that happens it'll be too late).

* * *

><p>It's about a month later that it All Goes To Hell. She likes to think it's all his fault, and she does at times, but truth be told it takes two to screw up. (Not that she'd ever tell him that.) It's during yet another Eureka crisis and he's jumped at the chance to impress her (not that she sees it that way. She has yet to realize that when you put an obstacle in Donovan's way he's not going to wait for you to politely move it, and he has yet to learn that persistence usually leads to pain with her. Neither of them are going to win).<p>

They're trying to stop a herd of genetically modified electric eels with a wire designed to draw the charge of the eels when he gets fed up with her rather pathetic attempts to maneuver the remote controlled hover disk Carter's on. Donovan grabs the controls out of her hands, gets Carter down, helps ground the wire, gets Carter out of there, and then tells her that she shouldn't feel bad, he really wouldn't expect someone without a degree from MIT to understand how to work a complicated system like that.

In front of General Mansfield.

And about a dozen other scientists.

The fact that she didn't reach out and strangle him right then and there is really only because there were too many witnesses. (Many, many days later she realizes that he didn't mean it as an insult and wasn't implying she was an idiot, but by then the wound has festered too long to be properly healed.)

Later at the office he leans against the doorway like he owns the place, grinning that self-satisfied cocky smile and asks if she wants to grabs some celebratory dinner (her blood boils and she sees red because his victory has come at her humiliation). She barely restrains herself from shooting him and snarls that she'd "never, under any circumstances, not even if hell froze over, not even if you were the last man on earth, will I ever, EVER, go out with you." (Perhaps she laid it on a bit thick but God _dammit_ she's angry).

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where it all goes wrong.

* * *

><p>He tries, of course, to get back into her good graces, but she's so freaken mad at him that by the time she's installed as Head of Global Dynamics security he's firmly establishes as her biggest headache. Any snarky comment is met with disgust, any insurrection is met with more than due force, and any attempt to stop the escalating contempt they hold for each other is met with wilful ignorance.<p>

("You know," Carter says, "you don't have to lock him up for _everything_.")

She's so determined to show she can install calm and order at GD, or at least obedience, that any concern over him is lost when it butts heads with her thirst to prove she wasn't given this job because she looks good. (Donovan shoots that at her one day as she's trying to cuff him, and if her finger holds too long on the taser button, well, that's just your opinion.)

It's not until he paints the town red (literally. Took them two days to clean it up) that she realizes she holds an ace. He whines from the backseat of her car that giving her that lingerie was a waste because "such perfection has no place amongst the likes of cold-hearted wenches." As she glares at his sullen form, it hits her that he assumes she got rid of them. He has no idea that she still has them (in a drawer, but still). He'll never know, not in a million years, and no matter what he does, says or blows up, she'll always know something he doesn't (and the fact that it would blow his mind is only a sweet bonus). The thought fills her with such glee that not even the red buildings in town can diminish it. She finally, after weeks of chasing him down and cleaning up his messes, has the upper hand.

* * *

><p>The fact that the school yard taunt 'I know something you don't know' is sometimes the only thing that stops her from killing him is not exactly a happy thought. She just never understands him. He was plucked from <em>jail<em> and given every opportunity in the world's greatest research facility, yet all he wants to do is spend his time pissing people off. Days and weeks and months go by and she spends more and more of her time trying to diffuse situations between Donovan and everyone else. (The fact that he treats GD like his own personal playground does not endear him to the residents of Eureka.) The more he fools around, the harder she comes down on him. It's her job to keep him in line and she's desperate to bring him to heel.

At the end of the day, he's like a disobedient puppy that won't be trained and pees on the floor just to piss her off. The amount of scientists who threaten to quit when faced with having him assigned to their team grows and he never sees a project through to the end. He spends most of his time swinging from brilliant scientist to mastermind prankster but remains a constant pain-in-the-ass.

She starts to go on the offensive regarding him, finding it easier to lock him up and prove his innocence than let him run wild and have to track him down. Something goes missing, lock up Donovan. Something blows up, lock up Donovan. She gets raspberries in her yogurt instead of strawberries, lock up Donovan. She may be harsh with him, but it's the only thing she can think to do. And on the days he treads on that last nerve, she just reminds herself of what lies underneath.

* * *

><p>Jo's wearing the light-yellow and orange bra the day she almost kills him. There're some weird readings coming from the equipment studying plankton photosynthesis for possible fuel sources (she thinks. Look, she has an entire building full of yahoo scientists who think they're the next Einstein and their work will lead to a Nobel Prize. She has neither the time nor the memory space to remember them all. Anyways). Carter, Allison, Henry, Stark, Donovan, herself and Dr. Caldwell (the scientist in charge) are all standing on the catwalk over the tank wondering if these readings are causing various scientist to start speaking in different languages.<p>

Her choice of bra would have had no effect on the day whatsoever if she hadn't forgotten on important fact when she threw it on in the morning – the damn underwire cuts into her chest like a knife. She didn't realize the full implications of it until well into her day, and the crisis, which meant she couldn't run up to her office to change because, _crisis_, so she's left with the option of trying to discreetly rearrange herself while the scientists in the room discussed matters far above her grade 12 science knowledge. Unfortunately, Donovan seems to have eyes in the back of his head (actually, she should look into that, it really wouldn't surprise her) so that every time she tried to do something he gives her _that look_, like he knew she was wearing a bra he gave her and he liked it a lot. So when he leans over and asks if she'd like any help in getting comfortable, the look in his eyes leaving no room for imagining he meant something else, she has a momentary lapse in judgement and pushes him into the tank.

Yeah.

Great moment.

As she stares at the empty space in front of her hands, she tries to believe that this is all a bad dream and she'll wake up any time now. The shocked look on everyone's faces was only the icing on the cake; she could feel their confidence in her plummeting.

"What the hell Lupo!" he yells at her, splashing the water in frustration.

"Stop whining." Stark is the first one to move, seeming more amused by the situation than shocked. "It's just water, it's not going to kill you."

Those words become prophetic when barely an hour later Zane is in the infirmary with seizures and is bleeding out faster than they can transfuse blood in. Turns out it had nothing to do with the equipment but rather some toxin from the tank itself. While everyone else just breathed the toxins in, Zane was doused head to toe. (Her grandmother was right, her temper is going to be the death of someone.)

An antidote is found, the day is saved and she finds herself sitting beside his hospital bed waiting for him to wake up (_come on, you can do it you rat bastard_).

Eventually he stirs back to life, looking at her with first a confused then amused look (and God help her, all she can see is his bloodshot eyes and think how close he came to death).

"Geez Lupo, least you could do is throw on a nurse's uniform for the guy you almost killed." Good ol' Donovan, comes back from the brink of death and he's still cracking jokes at her expense.

She smooths down the front of her shirt as she stands and squashes the desire to smack that self-satisfied smirk off his face.

"I'm glad you're alive. There's less paperwork involved." She touches her hand to the takeout container beside the bed and inwardly grimaces at his struggle to turn his head ('_You did this_._' _She thinks). "I brought you soup. Vegetable. You'll need the nutrients." Seconds click by yet she can't bring herself to leave. She resists the urge to fiddle with the bottom of her jacket and instead puts on her best Enforcer face. "Feel better. You've had a rough day." It's the closest she can bring herself to saying she's sorry, and as she leaves she tells herself the tightening in her chest is from the underwire, nothing else.

She doesn't know it yet but she's started a tradition. The next time, and every time after, she ends up in the infirmary he'll show up with some food or reading material or some trinket (one time he brought her that drinking bird thing, which amused her at first but got annoying real quick) and drop it by her bedside with a "Here, I brought you this. Just wanted to let you know it wasn't me. By the way, could you ease up on the cuffs/get me off this brain dead assignment/wear those pants again because you ass looks great in them."

When he ends up in there from a lab explosion or irate co-worker (by his first year he's been punched six times, pushed or tripped with serious injury three times, slipped a powerful sedative twice, and nearly lost an eye from a thrown stapler. She has to admit, watching Carter arrest his girlfriend did make the incident kind of funny), she shows up with the same (minus the annoying trinkets and snarky comments) and tells him "I'm glad you're not dead, there's less paperwork if you live." Sometimes she thinks that if they were anyone else this ritual might mean that they gave a damn about whether the other lived or not. But she figures that since it's them, it's doubtful.

* * *

><p>She's wearing one of the more sensible bras that day that the town almost disappears into a giant black hole. They've figured out how to dissipate the matter, all they need is someone who understands particles, can operate rockets from a remote control, and who thinks diving head long into a potentially catastrophic situation is a fun way to spend a Thursday afternoon.<p>

"And why should I?" Donovan leans back in his chair and she chants '_you need him, you need him_' to stop herself from kicking the chair out from under him.

"It would be a great opportunity to study black holes up close and..." She trails off as he interlocks him fingers behind his head with a bemused look on his face. He's toying with her, she knows it. She's not in the mood to be toyed with. All restraint is forgotten as she slams her hands on the Cafe Diem table. The few remaining people fall into stunned silence and she sees Vincent silently sink down behind his counter, no doubt preparing for yet another round in the never-ending Lupo-Donovan war. She leans into Donovan's space, never once taking her eyes off his smug expression.

"For once in your sorry and pathetic life Donovan could you give a rat's ass about someone other than yourself? Lives are at stake here, innocent lives, that you are putting at risk by being a self-absorbed jackass!" Her raspy breathing is the only sound in the still restaurant as she watches the smug look transform into anger. She expects the fire in his eyes, she even expects him to move closer until his face is barely inches from hers. What she doesn't expect is what he whispers in her ear.

"I guess what they say about wolves raising children is true. All you had to say was please." His warm breath puffs out a stray lock and his cheek gently grazes hers. He lingers there for a moment before he pulls back and angrily stomps out. The sound of his motorcycle breaks through her shock and she watches dazed through the window as the best chance to save the day rides away.

She drives to Henry's garage on autopilot, his words running like hamsters on crack though her brain. When has she ever said please? She's threatened him, blackmailed him, yelled at him, yet when has she ever just _asked_ him to do something? Was that all he wanted this entire time? No matter how she looks at it, she just can't figure it out.

So when she pulls into Henry's driveway and sees a familiar motorcycle parked off to the side, she's not sure what she feels. Donovan doesn't look up from his data pad but his shoulders tense up as she kills the engine. For both their sakes she stays as far away from him as possible.

"Don't worry dear, we're almost done." Grace reaches over to pat her arm. "Between Henry and Zane, Eureka will be saved in no time."

Jo offers a weak smile that fails to convince Grace. (Damn that woman is good. She should really look into getting her on her interrogation team.) Grace places her data pad on the worktable and looks at her expectantly.

"I'm just," Jo starts, "surprised. That he showed up. And is helping."

Grace furrows her brow. "But that's why we sent you. We know he'll do it if you ask." Grace says this as if she believes the idiotic words spilling out of her mouth and the matter isn't helped by Andy nodding at her words.

Jo gaps at Grace as she turns back to the leaf blower/rocket. Seriously, is she the only sane person in this town? (Don't answer).

When all's said and done and Eureka is safe (for now), she corner Carter in his office to demand to know what is going on. After some stammering, blatant lies, and one reminder of the time she talked Zoe out of a nose ring, he tells her what is quite possibly the stupidest thing she has ever heard (and that includes everything that has come out of the Chief's mouth).

"We sent you because you're the only one who can get him to do things." Carter takes a quick step back out of hitting range.

"He never does what I want him to!"

"Well, maybe not all the time, but he'll at least consider it because it's you asking." He takes another step back. Clearly he's been drinking the same kool-aid as Grace. And Andy (though as a robot does he actually drink? Callister drank, but did he have to? Whatever.)

"And why on Earth would you think that?" She says these words slowly as she follows him across the room. There's a certain glee that fills her at the scared look on his face.

"Because, he, you know, I mean, he's never said anything, but, you have to have _some_ inkling, I mean, you're not stupid, you have to have seen–"

"Carter!"

"He has feelings for you."

Carter sidesteps away from her, his hands ready in defensive position in case she attacked. Jo merely stares at him in shock.

"What?" She sputters. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

Carter lowers his hands. "Really? Even after listening to Fargo?"

"Carter!"

"Sorry. But you have to have noticed. I mean, the way he looks at you alone–"

Jo rubs her hands over her face. It's been a long day and she really doesn't want to deal with this anymore. "Carter, its lust. We know that. It's the same look he gives any remotely attractive woman. It's nothing special."

"He's always looking at you." Well, yes, that was true. Whenever she walked in a room he immediately looked at her, grin firmly in place. And no matter who else was in the room he always responded to her first. And how many times had she been in a room only to feel that heat as his eyes bore into her? It was creepy the way he did that. Made her squirm inside. But still.

"Because I'm the one to bust him the most! And he's only doing it too creep me out."

"You know him the best. It's why you're so good at busting him. Why would you know so much about him if he didn't want to talk to you, hm?" Carter had a point. She did know him better than anyone else in Eureka. They do talk when she's babysitting him, usually when she's run out of things to occupy herself with.

(Granted, their conversations are never without the undercurrent of tension, with one wrong move leading to her to assert her force over him, but it happens every now and then.)

She knows he can speak three languages fluently, (_"Four. _He says. _Klingon counts."_) two others passably, and has repressed knowledge of Latin due to his father. She knows he speaks to his mother regularly and his father as little as possible. She knows his favourite foods, what kind of music he likes, and his views on politics, religion and sports. But that's just boredom, it's not like he tries to get busted to talk to her. What idiot would want to annoy her because they like her?

"You," Jo pokes Carter in the chest. Hard. "are insane. Donovan has no feelings for me besides contempt, got it? You are mixing up fondness and fear, because somewhere in that stupid head of his he knows I can send him back to prison faster than I can snap my fingers. He. Does. Not. Like. Me." She emphasizes each word with a poke for good measure. "Geniuses like him don't like girls like me."

"He may be a genius, but he's still a man." The look she gives him must have been murderous because he quickly adds, "And men are idiots."

She considers pointing out that he just insinuated that it would be stupid for a genius to be attracted to an average person, but she really doesn't want to argue this anymore. Jo glares at him for a moment before grabbing her coat and storming out. "You need to get your head examined!" She slams the office door before she can hear his (asinine) reply.

Later that evening, Jo's still thinking of Carter's words as she brushes her hair. It was insane to think Donovan felt anything for her. Donovan only looked out for himself. Every action was a calculated move to benefit himself. She got the lust, saw that look in his eyes one to many times for comfort. But she (and her taser) had made it very clear that she wasn't interested.

She pulls harder on a stubborn knot getting more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. All he wanted was sex, a chance to say he had managed to bag the Enforcer. Any charm, any attempt to get in her good graces was just another attempt to do just that. After all, hadn't her been charming when he needed information on how to get out of her cuffs when he first got to Eureka? He'd played her for a fool once by turning on the charm, she wasn't falling for it again. He didn't want her trust, just bragging rights. The hairbrush clatters across the counter as she tosses it in frustration. Men.

(Still, the last thing she sees before falling asleep is that split second look in his eyes after she had yelled at him, a look that on anyone else she might categorize as hurt.)

* * *

><p>The whole wearing-his-lingerie-out-of-spite things starts to take a bad turn when she accepts a date with Walton McArthur. He's a business associate of Eva Thorn, brought in to help her restructure Global. Donovan, among other people, is not amused.<p>

"I always knew you were a bitch, I just didn't think that you were the kind of girl to sleep with the enemy. Where's your loyalty Lupo, or did the wizard forget it along with your heart?" (Perhaps she could have avoided the pipe, but it is so hard to walk and navigate a prisoner at the same time. He's hard headed, he'll survive.) Walton is kind, likes old Westerns, thinks there should be harsher penalties for parole violations, enjoys a good drink, and is extremely good looking (hey, a girl's allowed to appreciate beauty when she sees it).

Its not until halfway through dinner that Donovan manages to ruin her life without even being there (the fact that she made it is miraculous. Donovan's been unbearable lately. She finally resorted to locking him in her detention cell just to get some peace). She's checking her appearance in the bathroom mirror and idly adjusts the top off her dress. As she smoothes the fabric she thinks that she should really buy another strapless bra, perhaps one that didn't give her such...volume. She's struggling to remember where she got it when it hits her like ice cold water.

She didn't buy this bra.

Donovan did.

Almost immediately her mind flashes to the last time she'd seen him, sitting sullen in her holding cell. He'd been upset enough that she'd been going on this date, he'd be furious if he knew she was wearing a bra he had bought on said date. For some reason this makes her uncomfortable, almost like she's...betraying him. Which is ridiculous, he has more claim to her handcuffs than her underwear. And it's not like he hasn't had dates. Hell, he's hit on almost every available (and some unavailable) women in town. How many times has she rounded the corner at Global only to find him sucking face with some poor unfortunate girl who fell for his stupid charm and infectious smile and quirky sense of humour and...anyways. She can wear her underwear where ever and with whomever she chooses.

Nevertheless, she spends the rest of the evening wishing she was wearing something, anything else. Her skin feels like it's crawling and every time Walton puts his hands on her she jumps. ('_I didn't give you those just so you could wear them with someone else._') The night can't be over fast enough. She cuts Walton's goodnight kiss off at barely a peck in her rush to get inside and change. After she strips the stupid scraps of fabric off her body, the uncomfortable feeling begins to wear off and anger takes over. She's angry at herself for letting Donovan get the upper hand, angry at him for winning without _doing anything_, and angry at her treacherous mind for imagining Donovan's fingers running over her body in place of Walton's.

That night she dreams of her and Zane, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his calloused fingers leaving trails of heat along her body, his mouth kissing and sucking and _biting_, his raspy voice whispering "For me?" as he hungrily takes in the sight of her in his lingerie, and Oh Dear God she had a sex dream about Donovan.

Clearly she's going insane.

When morning arrives she finds herself in a very cold shower, scrubbing her skin until it is red and raw (not even that fully takes away the feeling of his fingers on her skin. She wonders if it's possible to get an STD from a dream, Lord knows what kind of woman he's been with).

For the next few days she becomes more and more uncomfortable wearing his lingerie. She tries to pull out the old feelings of superiority, upping the ante with the steamier pieces, yet it becomes harder and harder to forget the way his lustful dream-face had looked. The day that he makes holographic Ewoks march through GD singing that damn song from Snow White is the last straw. She's wearing one of the sexier sets that day, red with gold lace, and she's hoping that this knowledge of what he doesn't know will stop her from killing him. He's fairly pleased with himself, whistling as they walk to her detention cell with that smug grin on his face. As she uncuffs him, his hand runs down her arm and he leans forward, his (gorgeous) eyes twinkling as he asks "What did you think?"

That hazy, toe-curling feeling runs liquid hot through her veins and it takes all of her army training not to gasp. This can't be happening. A dream is bad enough, but real life? Is she finally losing her mind? _Why is this happening?_

She shoves him in the cell and rushes away as fast as she can, nearly tripping over her feet in her haste to leave. She can't, she _won't_, feel anything for him. Yes, he's extremely good looking (especially since his hair doesn't look like he stuck his finger in a light socket anymore) but sex, even _feelings_ for Donovan would be suicide. He would just use them to his advantage and leave her looking like the fool.

'_Breathe_.' she commands herself. How does she fix this? How did this even happen? She leans her head against the cool elevator door and firmly stomps down any insanity-induced lust.

The lingerie. It's all that stupid lingerie's fault. Somehow they made her think of him as something other than an annoyance.

'_Yes_.' she thinks. Her breathing starts to slow. It confused her, made her think things she wouldn't normally think. He gave her the lingerie, so when she started to like the lingerie she somehow transferred those feelings to him. She needs to get rid of them. Plan firmly in place, she exits the elevator without any trace that her entire world just shifted off its axis. She can deal with this.

When she gets home she pulls out all the lingerie he gave her, shoves it into a bag and kicks it into the back of the closest for good measure. She could throw it out, but she rationalizes that keeping them is a constant reminder to NOT LET HIM WIN. Still, she knows that it isn't enough. She needs to gain the upper hand before this gets out of hand and she does something stupid. (Like kiss that infuriating grin off his face.)

So if she's a little harsher with him, has less patience for his insanity, is a little rougher with him, and accidentally forgets to release him once or twice (or six), she has the insanity defence to play.

(And if Donovan's pranks decrease in a) stupidity and b) frequency once Walton goes back to New York, well that's just coincidence.)

* * *

><p>It's a fine Monday morning when Dr. Roginski tries to steal a molecular generator and frame Zane for it. Zane had taken a tumble off his bike that evening (Roginski's work) and dislocated his shoulder. The medical team fixed his shoulder, pumped him full of drugs and sent him home, which she gets the dubious honour of completing. Zane normally was a challenge. Drugged? Getting him home was a nightmare.<p>

_("Your hair smells pretty, did you know your hair smells pretty? Like flowers. You should wear your pretty hair down more often."_

"_Donovan, if you don't knock it off right now a dislocated shoulder will be the least of your problems."_

"_That is so hot. Ow!")_

Unfortunately, Zane's wired his own security system and even in his drug induced state won't tell her how to get in to his apartment.

_("You might try to ravish me in the night. Don't tell me you've never thought of taking a trip on the Zane Train.")_

She's all for leaving him in Carter's cell, but Carter won't lock up an innocent man, especially when he's injured. _("Why not? I'm sure he's done something. That Batman symbol from a few weeks ago? Classic Donovan.")_ So after her house is vetoed (there's no way _in hell_ he's ever stepping foot in her place), they deposit him on Carter's couch for S.A.R.A.H. to keep an eye on.

Dr. Roginski's plan is to use a modified DNA replicator to take on Zane's appearance, steal the generator and pin him for the crime. So when she reviews the security footage and sees fauxZane walking out with the generator, one call to S.A.R.A.H. confirms the real Zane's whereabouts. Unfortunately, with Roginski still in Zane's body when they find him in an off-site lab and the real Zane eating a hamburger at Cafe Diem (can he never just STAY PUT?) and both claiming to be the real Zane with no way to tell them apart, Jo had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

"I say we just throw both into federal prison and call it a day." Fargo suggests. He was unusually cranky due to Mansfield's 15 minute tirade that such a thing could happen on GD property. Her breath hitches as his words sink in. Yes, Zane is nothing but a pain in the ass, but for once there's a problem concerning him that isn't his fault. Prisons are for monsters and the thought of him rubbing elbows with those sorts of people for something he didn't do makes her stomach turn. Time for her to save his sorry ass (again).

"Give me time alone with both of them before we do anything drastic." Fargo looks like he might disagree, but wisely shuts up.

Thirty minutes later Roginski's off to jail, the generator is back, Zane's actually not guilty of something (except killing her patience) and she's headed across the rotunda for home.

"Lupo, wait up!" Zane jogs towards her, looking no worse for the wear.

"What do you want Donovan?" Maybe this will be quick. Maybe she'll grow wings and fly home (scratch that thought, in Eureka that could actually happen).

"How did you know?" He rocks back on his heels, looking like an excited five-year old (matching his maturity level perfectly).

"Know what?"

"That I was, you know, me?" She looks at him for a moment, wondering if she dares to go there. She figures he'll probably just bother her until she tells him, and that would involve more paperwork. She hates paperwork. She straightens herself up to her full height and pulls out her best Enforcer voice.

"There are certain things I know about both you and Dr. Roginski that not matter how he tried he would never be able to duplicate." Zane waits expectantly. "Like, for instance, Roginski is gay and you never miss an opportunity to gawk at a woman." She watches a slow dawning crawl across his face. She'd like nothing more than to leave it there, but letting Zane connect the dots by himself usually doesn't end well. "So before I started my interview I removed my jacket and undid my top buttons. When I bent over the table Roginski looked at my face. You tried to look down my top." She figures she's humiliated herself enough for one day and starts to walk away. Zane's laughter stops her.

"You're like Xena!" She turns to look at him. "Only you would think to use your breasts as an interrogation technique." His eyes dance with laughter and she can't help but feel a smile tug at her lips. She mulls it over in her head.

"Was that a compliment Donovan?" He pauses for a moment, and then one of those rare, genuine smiles breaks across his face (and she does not think for one second it makes him look very attractive).

"I guess it is. I'll go check for flying pigs."

"I'll ready my team for the four horsemen."

"Oh, by the way." He leans closer, his face barely inches from hers. "I loved the lace. Very sexy." She rolls her eyes. Oh course he can't not make a comment. At least it wasn't one of his; that would have been a disaster.

"Good night Donovan." As she drives home she realizes that that's the first real conversation that they've had that hasn't ended in her almost killing him or brought about by boredom. And she has to admit, it was kind of nice. Odd.

* * *

><p>"Your mother's on the phone." It's Founder's Day and Donovan's decided that today's the day to play animal activist (for a bad boy with anti-establishment tendencies he sure has a weakness for the cute and cuddly).<p>

"Seriously?" Donovan peers at her over his magazine.

"Yes. Apparently things like protocol, hierarchy at GD, relevancy and felonies mean nothing to your mother."

Donovan shrugs and holds his hand out for the phone. "Not when it comes to her boy."

She's reluctant to hand over the phone because who does Diana Donovan think she is that she can just bypass Jo's authority to have her weekly chat with her son? Someone better be dead.

"Just give it to me Lupo. I'm allowed one phone call."

"You lost that privilege when you made the Darth Vader theme song play where ever I went." He gives her the cheeky grin again. She inwardly sighs and hands him the phone anyways.

"Yeah Mom, what's up? Dad get kidnapped again?" (She's not sure what troubles her more, the nonchalant way he asks that, or that it seems like a Donovan thing to do. Seriously, what kind of parents does he have? A part of her wants to know to at least confirm he wasn't hatched or anything. Another part worries about the people who could create Zane Donovan.) She pretends to be focused on her paperwork as she eavesdrops on his conversation. For a pain in the ass like Donovan, its surprisingly normal, full of the sort of agreement grunts, drawn out 'Moms' and single word sentences you would expect to hear from a caring son to a doting mother. He almost sounds normal, if such a word could be attached to the likes of Donovan.

"I'm done." Donovan holds the phone out to her. (If there's a strange clenching in stomach as his fingers brush hers, well, she just hasn't eaten all morning.)

"What did she want?" she asks.

"My dad is going to be a guest lecturer at U-Dub next week. She wants me to visit with him." He flips the magazine back open and settles back down. She waits for him to ask for a visitation pass, a day off work or even a video line to be set up. Nothing.

"And..." She says.

"And..." He parrots back. "I'm not going."

She looks at him for a moment in disbelief. She gets that not everyone has a great relationship with their parents, but she can't imagine not even wanting to see their own father. She scoffs and bends her head over her paperwork.

"What was that?" He asks.

"What was what?"

"The 'uh'." He imitates her scoff to near perfection. It's a little creepy.

"Nothing." She replies.

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"It's just." She clicks her pen a few times as she collects her thoughts. "Your mom managed to get through GD security to the Chief to find out if you were alright, get the number for here and convince me to let her talk to you, just to ask you to see your father, and you won't do it."

"Nope." He pops the 'p' as he goes back to his magazine.

"Typical. I don't know why I'm surprised, all you ever think about is yourself." She knows those are fighting words, but being in such close proximity to Donovan is making her skin itch (it doesn't help that she can't help but notice how nicely he fills out that shirt). Sure enough he slams the magazine on the bench as he stalks to the cell wall. The bars frame his face in such a way that he reminds her of an angry zoo animal. Idiotsaurus Jackassimus. He stretches his arm through the bar (idiot want a cracker?).

"Listen Lupo, you may run around town thinking you're better than everyone else but you don't get to run my life!" The familiar feeling that she gets every time she locks horns with Donovan begins to rush through her veins. Now this she can deal with.

"You know what Donovan, I wish I did run your life."

"Because you have control issues."

"Because maybe then you'd ask like a decent human being–"

"Like you? Please."

"Who could contribute more to society–"

"I contribute!"

"than being a selfish, egomaniacal–"

"Spell it Lupo!"

"idiotic–"

"Smarter than you."

"immature man-whore–"

"Just because you can't get a date–"

"whose's going to die alone! Do you know where you would be if I wasn't here?"

"Someplace happy?"

"Prison! And one of these days I'm not going to be here–"

"Oh happy day!"

"to save your sorry ass!"

"I knew you liked it."

"You low-down, scum of the ear–"

The ringing from her phone cuts through the haze of their screaming match, and she becomes acutely aware that they're in what her Aunt Sylvia refers to as a 'kiss or clobber zone'. (For the first time she's not sure which one she'd attempt.)

"What!" She snaps in the phone, moving as far away from him as she can.

"Jo, hi, it's Henry."

"Oh." She breathes. "What's up?" She thanks her lucky stars that Henry seems to be in his absentminded professor mode and doesn't seem to notice her agitated manner.

"I was wondering if you had that gun ready for today."

"Right, the gun." Between babysitting and trying not to kill Donovan, she had forgotten that Henry had wanted her to drop off a restored WWII pistol at his garage.

"Listen, I have to finish up here, but I can have it over to you in about, say, ten minutes?"

"Sure, that would be fine."

"Alright, see you then."

The gun case makes a loud thump as she slams it on the desk. She opens it and takes out her cleaning cloth for one final swipe hoping the repetitive movements will calm her down.

"Hm." Donovan grunts. She tries to ignore him but she can feel his eyes on her, boring holes in her back.

"What." She snaps.

"Remind you of anything?" She looks up to see him draped casually over the bars. It confounds her that he can go from angry to mellow in two seconds flat, while she can steam for days on end. She raises an eyebrow. "It's like the first time we met. Me, unfairly accused. You, compensating for your pitiful love life with guns."

She's on her feet in a flash, gun drawn and finger just itching to get rid of him once and for all. He quickly raises his hands and backs away from the bars, smug grin firmly in place.

"You can't shoot an unarmed man!"

"But I can wing one." There's a tense moment as she envisions his stupid, genius brain splattered all over the cell wall but as good as that would make her feel she'd then have to fill out the paperwork (and there's nothing she loathes more than paperwork, except Donovan). She lowers her weapon and places it back in its holster with a sigh. She eyes the antique pistol, then decides the hell with it, she'd rather it be dirty than spend one more minute with him. She's almost out of the office when he speaks.

"Hey, what happened to that lingerie I gave you?" She pauses at the door. She'd been anticipating that question for two years, though why he felt the need to bring it up now was beyond her.

"I sent it back. Why would I keep it?" He's once again sprawled out in his cell, magazine open and his feet propped up (yet his eyes are focused solely on her. She hates when he does that). He shrugged.

"Wishful thinking."

"In your dreams Donovan."

He smiles that cocky grin. "Always Lupo."

As she gets into her car she twists her fingers around the steering wheel wishing it was his neck. God, she hates it when he reduces her to a raging mess. He just knew exactly what buttons to push.

'_Get a hold of yourself Jo_.' She thinks. She closes her eyes and rests her head against the steering wheel. The merriment from the street floats faintly through the open window as she feels the anger leave her body. _What about the lingerie._ Of course that's what he focuses on. She wishes she could go back in time and warn her past self to never let him get under her skin (both figuratively and literally. The lingerie may be in the back of her closet but sometimes she felt like the damage was irreversible). Keeping that lingerie was a stupid idea. She thought it made her stronger, yet all it got her was stupid inappropriate feelings for a completely unsuitable man.

She lifts her head off the steering wheel and sighs. When she gets home she's going to get rid of his lingerie. She'll prove once and for all Zane Donovan means nothing to her, even if it is just to herself.

The ringing phone breaks through her thoughts and she fumbles to answer it. After the day she's been having she really hopes that there's not another disaster. Her eyes slid to the sheriff office. If he's done something else Carter or Andy will have to deal with him because she's not sure if either one of them can survive another round. She pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and presses 'talk'.


End file.
